#john price x afab!reader

[as-is-above-so-below]

Cardigan - John Price x F!Teacher!Reader

Part 2: Midnight Rain

summary: you get yourself in a pickle a/n: hi! I return again! I'm sorry it's short, but I'm trying a new method of posting. Instead of aiming for a specific word count (which leads to me getting writer's block and not posting ANYTHING), I write until I'm satisfied with what I'm trying to achieve. Hopefully, I've achieved that goal, and y'all like it :) Blessed be! << Previous | Next >>

You drummed your fingers against the notebook in your lap and gnawed on the top of your pen. It was late, even by your standards; the sun had long since set, and dinner eaten hours ago. But you were up, sitting in the dark in your living room, heavy rain pelting your old windows. You were trying to pull together a new lesson plan for the following day. A few curious students had started asking questions about the modern military. Like, key differences between military strategies used in the time they were studying and today. And, of course, yet again, you made promises that you were struggling to keep. And you always keep your promises to your students.

Fuck.

The internet wasn’t helping at all. You didn’t study military strategy in any of your courses. Was that even a thing?

The last thing you wanted to do was call him. You were so confident that you could solve your problem yourself, at nine o’clock. Now, it was past midnight, and you were absolutely desperate.

Fuck.

Before your tired brain can flood with guilt and change its mind, you grab your phone from your nightstand and tap into your recent calls log. Your stomach churned, anxiety bubbling up with every trill. God, it’s so fucking late to be calling. It felt like you were split in two. One half of you was praying that his phone was on silent (you know it’s not) or he’ll sleep through the ringing (he won’t), while the other–the miserable, exhausted half–needed him to pick up.

The latter won out.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

John’s deep, sleepy voice made you feel guilty and incredibly happy that you’d woken him up. Soft and grumbly, rolling in his chest; it made you feel soft and warm inside…

Not the point of the call.

“Hi, John. I’m completely fine, I just…” You took a deep breath, the heel of your free hand pressed into one of your dry, worn-out eyes. “I know you’re this big important captain, and you have work in the morning, but I’m in a bit of a pickle and need a massive favor.”

There was a slight rustling on the other end like he had turned slightly to check the nearby time. “It’s one o’clock in the morning, love,” he mumbled.

You felt even worse. “I know, I’m sorry. Please don’t hate me,” you begged, running a hand over the top of your head. “One of my kids asked about the military. It sparked a whole discussion in class, and I may have overstated my knowledge. I barely know anything about it, and my brain is turning to mush. I’m so tired I wanna cry, and-”

He quickly cut off your rambling. “Woah, hey. Slow down there. What’s going on?” he asked, suddenly sounding much more awake. 

That brought you pause. You honestly hadn’t thought what you would ask if John actually answered the phone through. It was one o’clock in the morning, which John had correctly pointed out, and your brain wasn’t operating at full capacity. 

“I was…wondering if you could give me a lesson. Because I’m super tired, and I like to hear you talk.”

“…You do?”

“Yeah. I’ve learned a lot from you just…talking to me? But I’m a history teacher. I’m an expert on wars, not war.”

There was some shuffling on the phone. On the other line, John was leaning over the edge of his bed, searching blindly for his little pocket planner in the pile of clothes on the floor. The rustling stopped when he placed the device on his pillow, rifling through the calendar. He sniffed and was quiet for a moment, while you nibbled anxiously at your pen. Again.

The silence finally broke with a tired sniffle from John. “I can do you better. Why don’t I come to your classes tomorrow?” he asked.

You froze, pen still between your teeth. John? Coming to your school? Spending the day with your students? That would be the equivalent of introducing your boyfriend to your children. 

“…Really?”

“Sure.”

Could you even call him your boyfriend? You’d been on a few dates, sure, over the last…two months? No, it was closer to three. Had it been that long already? You did some quick math in your head. You’d gone on about one date a week, with a few canceled due to last-minute commitments. Still, about one date a week, over three months…

Holy shit.

“John, I’m sure you’re busy. I couldn’t-”

“Not at all,” he hummed, cutting you off. “Besides, it would take me ‘til class tomorrow to give you a good enough rundown, and the boss loves shite like this.”

“I thought you were the boss?”

You could practically hear a small smile tugging at John’s lips. The expression was a familiar one. The corner of his mouth quirked up, shifting his beard and creating happy wrinkles near his eyes. His nose would scrunch up a bit, too, especially if you were out in cold weather. 

“Everybody has a boss, sweetness. Myself included.”

Christ. Not the pet names. And especially not in the tired, gravelly tone his voice was currently in. John Price was going to be the death of you, even in his unfocused state.

You unfolded your legs from underneath you and moved your notebook onto the coffee table. Your resolve was fading, and you couldn’t be bothered to argue. While you did feel bad about dragging John to your school to fix the problem you created, you weren’t sure you had any other option. Accept defeat? To a group of teenagers? Absolutely not. You’d never live it down. You sighed, rubbing tiredly at your eyes. “If you’re sure…”

“I am.”

A soft smile crossed your face. “Is this just a ploy to meet my kids?”

“Maybe.”

Your sleepy giggles were like music to John’s ears. The sound alone was worth the favor. As if he wouldn’t have done it anyway, just to ease your stress. He would take any and every opportunity to make your day easier or make you happy. What he wouldn’t give to hear that laugh in person, laying beside you in your bed–

No. John’s a good man. A gentleman, he would say. A man who was perfectly capable of not acting on his urges and thoughts. At least, not in person. However, in the privacy of his own home? That was a different story.

“Thank you so much, John.”

Right. You’re still on the phone. He heard a soft click on your end of the call.

“That’d better be you closing your laptop, I’m hearing.”

“It is.”

“Good girl.” You blushed furiously. Fuck. “Get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.”

taglist: @novausstuff, @cutiecusp, @ittosbigfatmantitties, @helpimhyperfixating, @hihhasotherfixations, @dugiioh, @glitterypirateduck, @cringeycookies, @lethalchiralium

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[random0lover]

John Price Head Canon’s - dad edition (kinda)

This all occurs after mw2 so John is in his late 30’s… probably about a year after mw2 so he’d be like 38. 

Word Count: 1,582

Warnings: None I think, SFW, reader is AFAB, pregnancy is talked about, marriage, children, fluff, reader referred to as wife

⁃ okay so I don’t really think he wanted to have kids at first, mainly because of his job but he also hadn’t found anyone that he found worthy of settling down with. That was until he met you.

��� After many dates (cause this man is all about courtship) that spanned almost a year- only because of him being deployed- he knew that he wanted to marry you.

⁃ You ended up moving in with him- as his place was bigger than your own- about 8 months into the relationship.

⁃ It was after him coming back from a rough mission that he proposed (he had carried the ring around with him for about 3 months before he proposed). He had ordered your favorite food and you two had a picnic while watching the sun go down, you were lost in your thoughts when you looked over to find John down on one knee. 

⁃ (you were only “officially” together for a year when he proposed but you “dated” for 9 months before that)

⁃ He tried giving the whole spiel about how much he loved you and how he couldn’t see himself with anyone else but you interrupted him mid speech by launching yourself into his arms and smothering him with kisses.

⁃ It took three months to plan the wedding and it was a spring wedding.

⁃ It was a simple backyard wedding- you had insisted that you were fine with it and would rather spend money on buying a house than an expensive wedding- with just your close friends and family. 

⁃ It was that night when you both went back to your shared flat that you gave him a little rectangular blue box with a light pink ribbon tied around it. Inside were three positive pregnancy tests. You were about two months along then.

⁃ He honestly didn’t expect for y’all to have kids so quickly but he was insanely excited.

⁃ That night you both stayed up for hours doing some house hunting, trying to find the perfect place for your blooming family.

⁃ Five months later you and the rest of the task force was helping John carry boxes into your new home that was a two story farmhouse- five bedroom three bath- in the English countryside. It was on 10+ acres of land as he wanted plenty of room but he also wanted to make sure that you would all be safe, even when he couldn’t be there. 

⁃ Price is definitely a girl dad. I don’t care what anyone says. 

⁃ He went to every single doctor’s appointment that he could make it to and when he was called away for a month-long mission he almost had a heart attack but you promised him that you- and your little girl- would be absolutely fine. 

⁃ When he heard your little girl’s heartbeats for the first time he cried. The man almost never cried but when he heard the sound of yours and his daughter’s heartbeat he absolutely bawled and wasn’t ashamed one bit. 

⁃ During the whole pregnancy he tried to keep you off your feet as much as possible. He would run you baths- with all the soap and little herbs you wanted- when he noticed your back was bothering you and would often get in with you so he could give you full back massages. I also think that if you asked him to shave ~down there~ or your legs he would totally do it and not be bothered. You were his wife and he would do anything to make sure you were comfortable.

⁃ After y’all had moved into the new house he baby proofed absolutely anything that could be a danger to the new baby. You tried to explain that it didn’t need to be done for a while as the baby would mainly be sleeping and eating for the first few months but he didn’t care, he just wanted to be prepared. 

⁃ I feel like he would let you pick the names… he might come up with a few but he wasn’t really picky although i could see him preferably wanting more traditional names.

⁃ Once the baby was born he would do absolutely anything to help. He insisted on doing all the night feedings- since he was used to having a wonky sleep schedule because of his job- unless you happen to wake up and wanted to do it yourself. 

⁃ He made sure to always make time for you to have at least two hours to yourself. Whether you were showering or just reading a book, he knew it was important for you to still have some time to yourself. If you ever asked him to do anything he would be right on top of it no matter what he had been doing before you asked. 

⁃ Would not pressure you about sex at all. If anything he was more worried about you getting hurt than you were. Even after the doctor gave the okay he wanted to wait an extra two to three weeks just to make sure that you would be 100% comfortable.

⁃ After you had the baby he would tell you that you could become a stay at home mom if you wanted to. He made plenty enough money to provide for you and your growing family but he would leave it up to you.

⁃ I also firmly believe that he would want to carry your sweet girl everywhere and would love the little wraps that holds the baby to your chest and would have multiple colors so that he could match it to her outfit for the day.

⁃ MATCHING OUTFITS 

⁃ He would 100% buy a shirt that would match her onesies.

⁃ His first mission away from you both was absolute hell for him. It almost made him consider retiring early but he knew he needed to wait just a few more years. 

⁃ As time progressed you ended up having two more little girls. They were all two years apart. 

⁃ He ended up retiring when your oldest was 9, middle was 7, and youngest was 5. Making him in his mid to late 40’s.

⁃ After you had your second girl you had finally decided to become a full time stay at home mom as it was easier to do that then trying to keep a babysitter around. So when John retired it left you two at home alone when the girls were at school. 

⁃ This leads to the ~making~ of baby number four.

⁃ But this time it’s a little boy.

⁃ When I tell you this man was frozen for a hot second when he heard that you were going to have a son. He was honestly surprised. He kinda thought he could only produce girls lol. 

⁃ Before you had your son though he was completely content being a girl dad. He would take all of them separately on little daddy daughter dates. Complete with him coming to knock on the door with flowers and him admiring their cute little outfits. He wanted to show them the proper way they should be treated so that when they got older they would have insanely high expectations (cause let’s be honest this man is probably a god at being a gentleman). He honestly would do this until the day they told him they didn’t feel like doing them anymore. If that day would ever come I feel like he would cry into your arms later that night about his little girls getting older. 

⁃ As your son got older he would do the same with him but it would be more of just a father son bonding type thing. He would show him how to fix cars, protect any and all women, to be a gentleman, and if your son is into sports you could often find them outside practicing.

⁃ John Price would be the ultimate dad istg.

⁃ I feel like he would be the type of dad to make his kids feel comfortable enough to come to him about anything but he would also be stern when he needed to be. 

⁃ Self defense.

⁃ All of your kids would be trained on how to defend themselves properly by the time they were 13 but he would make them keep learning new things as they kept growing. He would also teach them how to use guns- including gun safety- just incase they absolutely needed to but would also teach them that it wasn’t the first thing to go towards in a heated situation.

⁃ Would be the type of dad to have a safety plan for every situation.

⁃ Trusts your kids to make good choices as he knows you both did your best to raise them right. 

⁃ Encourage all of them when they show interest in new hobbies even if it’s not something he would be interested in himself. 

⁃ Would totally be the loudest parent at any of their competitions. I could almost see him becoming a coach after retiring 🫣

I think that’s it for now… John would just be the best dad ever tbh. I love this man with my whole soul *dreamy sigh*

Requests are open but I can’t guarantee how fast things will be out.

Thanks for reading my loves <3

[random0lover]

Happy birthday love! I really want to make a Taylor Swift reference but I’ll keep it to myself 😂 anyways I hope you have an amazing day <3

This was really good though and the ending made me laugh lol

Give 'em hell. (Captain Price x Reader.)

TODAY IS MY BIRTHDAY AND I WANTED TO MAKE A STORY ABOUT MY ONE TRUE LOVE, CAPTAIN PRICE. 22 TODAY, PLEASE ENJOY THIS. ALSO THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR 1K FOLLOWERS.

!CW! NSFW, Smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, pollen sex, (my bad if I missed any.)

Summary: Reader and Captain Price get exposed to a weird chemical.

The mission was supposed to be simple. There was a terrorist who had killed a few soldiers, they needed to be taken care of. It wasn't a capture mission, he had no valuable information. Just a piece of shit wanting to kill people. He needed to be eliminated and that's how you and your Captain ended up on the mission. You were still somewhat new to the task force, so your Captain decided he'd take you along on this mission with him. Spend some time with you, get to know you and what skills you offer to the team. It was a good opportunity for experience.

So when he was giving you support from afar with a sniper rifle and you were sneaking in real close, despite his anxiety, the only words he said to you were "Give 'em hell." You showed him exactly what you were about. Skilled on takedowns, real quiet when you needed to be. He admired you. Sometimes he wonders what he did to form such a good team. Especially a team that seemed to get along and work together so well. When the compound he had watched you disappear into went silent, no sirens, no gunfire, nothing. He knew you had done the job. He slung his sniper around his shoulder and began the hike down the rocky hill to get to the building. Concerned by your silence. "Captain, you're going to want to see this." His heart started to beat a little harder in his chest after hearing his radio go off. He moves faster down the hill being careful not to fall, he didn't need any more old man jokes from Gaz.

He searches through the buildings and when he finds you, he finds you in a lab. "What's so important Y/N?" He asks. You pick up a paper, looking over it before nodding your head to follow him. Inside, there are massive vats of some kind of liquid. "What the hell is it?" He asks. "Some kind of.. weird sex drug." You laugh. "Some form of torture I guess." Captain Price looks at you concerned. "The bloody hell is wrong with these people?"

"You got me on that one." You laugh. "So.. How is it used as a form of torture?" He asks. "Well... The only way to cure it is to have unprotected sex, has something to do with the protein/peptide hormones in sperm that dilute it. The way it gets cured in women is if that sperm gets in contact with an egg. If you don't cure it, your blood pressure gets too high, heart starts pounding, and you eventually die of a heart attack." You spin the papers around, it's got a diagram on it. "Jesus Christ, that's evil. We've got to destroy this stuff." He says. You hear the sounds of bounding footsteps coming toward the both of you, and before either of you have any time to react, there's syringes in the both of you. Your Captain has drawn his gun and killed the assailant before you even have time to react. You grasp the syringe out of your neck, your Captain pulling one from his shoulder. "Was that.." You trail off. "Yeah. Yeah it was." He throws the syringe down, a sigh leaving his lips. "Fucking bloody hell, how much time do we have?" He asks. You pick the paper up off of the ground where you had dropped it out of fear. "Three hours." You sigh.

Captain Price sits down in one of the chairs in the lab. Taking out a cigar and his zippo. Lighting it. Your brain is foggy. What does this mean? Does this mean you both die? Neither of you can get to civilization soon enough for...

Does that mean you have sex with your captain?

"I'm gonna go get some fresh air." You take a deep breath walking out of the room and heading toward an exit. You shove the large metal door open and take a step into the cool night air.

It was the best time to attack.

You take in a deep breath, sitting down against the cool brick wall. This was fucking insane. Maybe he injected you with something else. Maybe it was some other kind of drug.

The swirling in your stomach told you otherwise, you were in denial. You were in quite the predicament. Have sex with your Captain or die. Literally fuck or die. Does he think he's going to die? Is that why he's just sitting there? Of course he wouldn't expect you to have sex with him, but he was your Captain, you couldn't let him die either. You had no other choice. You were already sweating profusely and you're sure your Captain felt the same as you. You start pep talking yourself as you walked back into the room he's sitting in. He's shed a few of his things. His vest is off and he's just got on an army green shirt. "I uh.. I really respect you, Sergeant. But.." He laughs. He looks down at the ground before looking back up at you. "I-I was just going to come back in here to say that I.." You laugh awkwardly. "I don't particularly want to die either." You breathe. He looks up at you. "Alright. I guess since we're on the same page. Let's figure out what the fuck to do." He stands up, picking up his stuff and walking over to the table. Picking up any paperwork that might be useful, motioning for you to follow him. You follow him outside. "Might want to take off any clothing you don't want getting ruined." He looks at you as he sheds some of his clothing and dog tags. You follow his lead, doing the same. Captain Price finds a shed that's full of all kinds of tools and construction items, finding a couple sledge hammers. He passes you one and you give him a look of confusion. "You can swing a sledge hammer right?" He asks. The way he throws the other up onto his shoulder, muscles fitting out his shirt so well. You nod your head, taking the other from him. You follow him back inside, going into the building with the massive vats of liquid. He takes the first swing, hammer knocking into the glass, shattering it and sending the water spilling out of the side, covering his clothes. It pools on the floor, covering your shoes. You take the next swing, hammer knocking into it, the same thing happening.

You repeat this until there's nothing left and Captain Price lights the last of his cigar, taking a hit and offering it to you. He flicks the last of it into the liquid and it lights on fire immediately. Filling the room and everything inside with flames. "Come on." He offers his hand to you. You take it, following him back outside as the building goes up in flames, admiring the work you both had done. "So.. You said that in order for the cure to work for women, the sperm has to come in contact with an egg. Unprotected sex. But.. doesn't that mean you end up.. Pregnant?" He asks. "Not sure to be honest. It doesn't say much else." You shrug. He nods his head. "I'm going to go scope out that building right there, you want to check out the other? See what else is inside?" You nod your head. "Yeah sure."

You part ways and John walks over to a truck. He opens the door and pulls the visor down, to his luck the keys come falling out. He starts it. Backing it up and adjusting it to where you can see the burning building from the back. He wanted to at least make the effort. Make this somewhat romantic for you. He goes inside the other building and looks for any kind of bedding inside, finding all kinds of blankets and pillows, bringing them down and laying them down in the bed of the truck. Once it's comfortable and everything is set up, Captain Price is struggling. His cock is rock hard in his jeans and he's sweating. Heart already beating hard in his chest. You emerge from the other building, smiling when you see what he's done. "What's this?" You ask. "Ah, just trying to make this more comfortable." The sky is full of stars, nobody is around. Burning building in the background. Perfect setting. He's sitting on the open tailgate of the truck, patting the spot next to him. "Your heart beating fast too?" He asks. You nod your head. He turns to look at you. Bringing his leg up onto the bed to turn more toward you. "You ready for this?" He asks. You nod your head.

He swallows hard, leaning into you. The burning in your lower stomach feels a slight amount of relief. Must have something to do with serotonin being released from your brain. He pushes your hair behind your ear, cupping the side of your face with his hand and leaning into you. When his lips meet yours, you feel dizzy. He pulls away almost immediately, eyes closed. "Fucking hell." He laughs. Lowering his head. "Feels fucking weird." He laughs. "Yeah it does." You laugh. "Good weird though." He leans back in, kissing you a little harder this time, deepening the kiss. You melt right into him, and even though neither of you have much of a choice, this somehow feels right. You move up into the bed of the truck, sinking into the blankets beneath you. He hovers over the top of you, kissing you again. He starts rolling his hips into yours and the moans slip from your lips unintentionally, he feels so good against you. He mumbles a few curses under his breath, he feels it too. He helps you remove most of your clothes, shedding his along the way too. Once you're fully naked and ready for each other, he lines himself up with your entrance. "Ah, Please." You pant. He sinks into you slowly, drawing a gasp from your lips. It's music to his ears.

Your eyes roll back when he starts thrusting into you at a quick pace. "I'm sorry if I'm rough- you just feel so good." He grits his teeth. "it's okay." You pant, looking down. You're watching him slide into the cavern between your legs, eyes rolling back at just how sexy it is. It's really starting to set in. You're having sex with your Captain. The Captain who you'd never had anything other than a professional relationship with. The Captain who up until just a couple hours ago you would've considered a friend. Now, dick buried up inside of you. Ready to fill you, potentially knock you up with his kid, and he's okay with it. You don't know that yet, but he's cool with it. He's always wanted to be a dad and you're a real pretty girl anyways. You'd look real cute round with his baby. He kisses you hard, hips plowing into yours as he fucks into you. "You're real beautiful you know?" He groans. Having trouble with an unsteady voice from trying to hold back the moans that desperately want to leave his lips. "I've thought you were real pretty for while, didn't think it'd turn into anything." He chuckles. "I couldn't have been more wrong huh." He smirks. "Guess so. I just.. you're my captain. It's just-ah!" A moan leaves your lips and he smiles. "You can call me John." He leans down, taking a harder thrust than the last. A moan leaving your lips. "Or moan it."

He speeds up his thrusts a little, feeling that familiar pit in his stomach. He's ready for it. Ready to claim you. Fill you up with his cum. You're clutching onto the blankets hard, legs resting up on his thighs. He's got the perfect angle, sliding right into the spongy spot inside of you, sending swarms of butterflies shooting through you. Something about the drug you're on. It's intensifying the pleasure. The dog tag he'd picked up and put on again at some point dangles in your face and the mental image you have of him is filthy, thrusting into you, the truck rocking with every hard thrust he takes. The deep rattle in his chest from his groans. It's too much and it overwhelms you immediately. Your high is creeping up on you quickly and so is his. You glance up at the sky, seeing all of the stars. Your eyes are getting increasingly blurry, your orgasm was right there. "John, I'm gonna cum!" You cry out. He lowers his hand, rubbing circles into your clit. Your mouth parts. Looking up into the sky. "Fuck, me too sweetheart." He groans. His thrusts start to get a little sloppy, he's chasing that high. He keeps rubbing at your clit, sending you into your orgasm. Tears fill your eyes. It's so much, the most pleasure you've ever experienced before. A gasp leaves his lips when he hits his own orgasm. Just then, the blazing building behind him collapses, sparks bellowing off of the rubble. His hips come to a sharp halt. He relaxes into you. Panting hard.

He slides out of you, moving to lay next to you, pulling one of the blankets over the both of you. You're watching the stars and seeing the building slowly burn out. Within the hour, both of you no longer feel the effects of the drugs that had been injected into you.

The next morning, it's cold when you stir awake because he is moving. He's sitting on the tailgate again and you pull the blanket up over you as you sit up. The building is nothing but ashes, still smoking. The wind is blowing just a little and it's still pretty dark. "Made it through the night." He smiles. "Yeah.. we did." You laugh. "Hell of a story." He smirks. "Yeah.. I'd say. Suppose we won't say that to our kid." You chuckle. "If there is one anyways." You lay back down. "I hope so." He mumbles under his breath, making your eyes widen. "What?"

"What?"

[majinbangus]

Silly thought but-

Wearing a fit with no pockets, you have no purse, no nothing to carry your phone, but that's okay because your man said he'll carry it in his pocket, he has more than enough space in those jeans of his. He tells you you don't need to bring your wallet either. Today's all on him.

So he's out treating you to some shopping (gotta spoil his love and all). You're at the register, looking cute while he's digging in his pocket to pay. He can't find his wallet. That's okay, he'll check his other pocket. Still no wallet. Alright, he's starting to get upset with himself. Did he really forget the one thing he needed for today? He promised you he would take care of everything. Take care of you.

He pats himself down once, twice, thrice, but still nothing. He forgot his wallet at home. He's about to curse himself out and apologize to you for bringing you out for nothing, but then you put a placating hand on his bicep, squeezing with a sweet smile he doesn't deserve, telling him it's alright. And just when he's about to rebuff that, you- you-

You reach into the front of your shirt, fingers dipping between your breasts, and pull out your credit card, making quick work and paying for the things he should be paying for, before he can react.

You put your card back in your bra and grab your bagged items, smiling at him, telling him you want to eat at that new restaurant down the street. He doesn't snap out of his haze until you're tugging at him.

Grumbly and grunting, he snatches your bags outta your hand, mumbling something about you not lifting a finger and promising to make it up to you for forgetting his wallet and making you pay for your day out, the day he was supposed to spoil you rotten. But he sucks up his indignation because you're smiling and happy to be spending the day with him, and that's all he really wanted.

He would have also promised a light punishment because how dare you presume you would have to pay for anything when he was there to take care of you, but since he did in fact forget his wallet, he was willing to let your transgression go. Just this once. He would not be forgetting his wallet ever again, and you would not have to worry about paying a dime for anything you ever needed or wanted while he was around.

-

reader ftw with the bra as a pocket hack

[tojisun]

ex-husband price still swings by when your kids and your new boyfriend are out, by the way, to fuck you. he says it's all a quick check and that there's no feelings attached to this, but when he's got you in a mating press or a full nelson, punching his cock in-and-out of your gushing and squelching cunt, he makes you say you love him. when your mind is fried with straining pleasure, and your eyes are crossed, he noses along your ear and murmurs, "look how much more honest y'r poor cunt is. s'all puffy and squirtin'. missed me lots, don't it?"

he slaps your clit, heavy palm striking in quick successions. you howl, pleasure and biting pain razing you, and all john does is muffle his chuckles on your shoulder, his eyes crinkled in his delight.

(and if he timed it well, your boyfriend should be home soon.)

[balljointedpup]

Rundown

Babysitter reader accidentally falling asleep in Price’s bed only to wake up to a big man crawling up behind her and shoving her legs apart while murmuring his wife’s name :\\ too bad she can’t correct him because the pillow keeps muffling her screams. - prompt by ceilidho

Warning: dubcon/noncon themes (reader doesn't verbally agree to sex but has wanted to fuck John secretly), somno kink, dirty talk, drunk! Price, implied age gap, babysitter! Reader, Wife is named, cheating, p in v sex, no protection, John's a nasty dog, Price is sloshed and can barely hold off his orgasm

Did i write this instead of sleeping? Yes. Do I have regrets? Many. I just couldn't stop thinking about this and knew I had to atleast try my hand.

Reblogs, likes and comments are much appreciated! Part two is available!

Part 1 | part 2

You've been babysitting for the price family for almost a month now. A small bundle of joy surprisingly docile in your arms after the wailinig for the baby boy would have cradled in her embrace. You hated the glare Colleen would snap your way as soon as her son shushed. You weren't sure why, at first you chalked it up to coincidence. Just the baby being well- a baby. But then you let yourself linger in her presence and found yourself curling away from the sting in your nostrils from the strength of her perfume. A lovely brand you had no way to afford, truely she was a woman to envy. Even in her years she's aged like wine; Rosé to be exact. She was primped and refined. A polished diamond with every sharp edge pointed in your direction. The many necklaces she adorned on her neck were chunky and sparkled with real gems that surely John has gifted to her over their marriage. Though, it made an uncomfortable resting spot for the babe.

But little James had much to protest about the way his mother's nails were too long and dug into his soft skin. To cry and scream when her perfume was just too much. When her makeup smeared against his chubby cheek and the new texture roused him into another fit. Only soothed once back in the arms clad in soft cardigans and sweaters, the smell of gentle floral soap and smooth skin against his own.

You've heard Colleen before bark at John to find a new sitter making small comments about how her baby clearly hates her. How neither of the men in her life seem to want her presence always resulting in a heavy sigh from John, firm words of curt comfort but she'd just bare her teeth and curl her painted lips. Not taking his words as anything more than another spew of thoughtless support. Not stopping her cries of woe until John has enough and grit words of defence through his grinding teeth.

You tried not to listen in; it wasn't your business after all but you couldn't help but feel pity. Some days it was for Colleen, clearly stressed and trying to latch onto something she can't quite grasp. But other days you felt a deep pity for John; peering in with little James bouncing in your hold as he sat at the dining room table with his head in his hands. Shoulders sagging down with the weight of the world digging into them.

Poor little James having to hear all this. Often, you tried to keep him distracted with the jingle of your keys or read out of a storybook to drown out their thunderous voices.

There's been a time Johns found you like that, huddled up by the crib shushing and slowly rocking the baby to sleep. A storybook in your lap and a relieved slumped as you stare at James' sleeping face. And so, to avoid waking up his son, he'd get close to your ear, ruffling your hair and giving your shoulder a firm squeeze as he muttered, 'Good girl. Such a sweet girl for keeping him happy' and 'sorry you had to hear all that, love' as he insisted on slipping you another small stack of pound notes for the extra stress. No matter how many times you've tried to decline.

Just as many times you've tried to convince yourself you didn't touch yourself that night because of his words. You definitely didn't imagine him mumbling sweet nothing's of how good you are, so perfect and sweet for him. He was a married man, for God's sake!

A soon-to-be divorced one if things continued to persist the way they were.

You didn't dare let these feelings show; for fear of losing your job and the possible disdain that would cloud over his aged features that you'd have the audacity to think of him that way. Unable to bring yourself to even consider baring the thought of his disapproval. It was too much. It made your stomach twist in ways stressful university exams never did.

-- -- --

RIIIIING

You rose from your afternoon nap, a startled sound ripped from your throat. textbook and laptop discarded clumsily at the table. The sofa creaking as you pulled yourself up, eyes squinting as you tried to find your phone in the darkness. Eyes already aching from staring at your laptop screen for hours even when it grew dark. Took engrossed in finishing your assignment to care that you were in pitch black. Only napping to soothe the sting.

You plucked your phone from the floor and saw it was Colleen calling you. Your eyes widened as you hastily answered. "Mrs Price! Is everything okay?"

"I need you to come over as soon as possible, Im already running late to meet with the girls and I need someone to watch James."

Your brows pinched in confusion. Checking the time and saw it was 10 o'clock. Surely there had to be someone more local.

"where's John-?"

"being useless as always, drinking and leaving me to do all his shit for him."

Your eyes practically bulged out of your skull; sure you've heard her be nasty but this was the first time you've ever heard her be so brazen with her dislike for her husband. Her voice oozing with venomous spit as each word punched out from her throat.

You thought it would be for the best not to say anything. Swallowing what words of defence you had for John, you slid off your couch. "I'll- uh- I'll be on my way."

You slipped on your shoes and your warmest coat, thankful your keys already sat in its pocket. You rushed out of your door, having to cycle your way over. Usually you'd catch the bus and then cycle the rest of the way but night buses weren't running where you needed to go.

Never have you peddled so quickly. Your legs were on fire by the time you arrived and Colleen was hissing at you as she scurried out the door for how late you were making her. Muttering the whole time she got in her car and was driving off into the night. You stumbled into the house and immediately went upstairs to check on James and thankfully he was still sleeping.

Hours you spent waiting for John to return home or even Collen. Anyone to bid you off so you could go back home and sink into the plush of your bed. Sleeping on the sofa and then all that peddling has strung your body until you were nothing but knots. Sitting down almost the entire time as your legs protested to any further usage.

You only went into the bedroom to grab the spare baby monitor to check if it was still working, but you got nosey. Peeking around and finding colleens vanity, staring at the unflattering reflection. Your hair was a mess, and your clothes were screwed on your body. You could smell your sweat and it wasn't even hot. With great hesitance, you picked and sniffed at the collection of perfume that sat there. All were much too strong for your tastes until you found a bottle tucked into the very corner. It looked like it hadn't been touched for a while, not even half empty, but it wasn't old. The brand's logo was chipped at the edges, and the bottle was sealed the wrong way. You couldn't resist giving it a small sniff and were pleasantly surprised to find such a kind smell. It was vanilla and rose water; with a small bit to your lip and against all your better judgment. You sprayed a shy spritz on your neck and dabbed it into either side. Already feeling like a grander woman.

But your curiosity died as the king-sized bed seemed to be calling your name. Sheets are neatly folded, and pillows are fluffed. With James back asleep after some fuss and a diaper change you slinked into the covers with mumbled apologies.

Sleep claiming you faster than you ever expected, slumped heavily against the mattress as your nose was filled with John's scent. A heady mix of both his natural order and the shampoo he used. Your nose sinking into the pillow even in your dreams as you inhaled deeply. Happy hums filling the empty room before soft snores took their place.

-- -- --

John on the other hand was not so lovingly dozed off. He wasn't partying with friends and running his mouth about all his stresses. No he was haggard as he just barely pulled himself away from the sticky counter. The bartender muttering something along the lines of him getting back to the misses.

His misses.

He was nothing but a stubborn bastard. That was his ring on her finger and he couldn't swallow the uncomfortable bitter pill that was his reality. He's been finding his ring 'mistakenly' left on the bathroom counter. She was already bringing up divorce whenever he glared at her a second too long.

He couldn't have it. What kind of man would he be if he stood by and let her go prancing off. That was his wife. His.

His fist hit the counter with a determined sneer and he shoved himself away. Wobbling for a moment before he was able to muster his legs into a familiar march. His footsteps were unsteady but persistent in their journey. The bar was within walking distance and what was a little fresh air to help sober him up so he can face his woman how he should. Steel in his composure and fire burning in his eyes as he was going to-

To-

Fuck. There are so many things he's been wanting to do. It's been too long. Much too long without being in between her legs. The heat of a welcoming cunt was now foreign as he had to rub himself with the rough callouses of his hand. No amount of spit could replace the heavenly slick of a woman's arousal. Didn't sound the same when he fucked his fist. Didn't smell the same. Didn't feel the same.

She was truly a cruel woman. He could withstand her sneers and moaning, but to deprive him of the luxury of a husband was the devil's work. His own personal torment after so many years of bloodshed and muddled honors.

Perhaps if that walk was as sobering as he told himself it was, he would have noticed the car that was missing. The bike parked in its place. The tranquil quite of his home shattered, 2 am in the morning, as he heaved himself through the door and winced at the thud of the door. Pausing to hear any cries of his son or the pissed off yell of disappointment but he was met with nothing.

He lumbered through his house after kicking off his boots. His coat was thrown somewhere in the darkness as he crept up the stairs and shuffled into his bedroom. There, he saw the lump of a figure in his bed, and his brain clicked into gear. Licking his dry lips, he dusted his hands off his jeans, already undoing his belt as he stepped out of the fabric as soon as it pooled down to his ankles. Crawling onto the bed as he stared at the sleeping miss in his bed, eyes beyond blurred and too blinded by his determination, maybe he would have noticed the obvious differences between you and his wife.

He presses sloppy open mouth kisses to your shoulder. "Col- Colly, He slurred out as each kiss grew higher and higher. The untrimmed scruff of his mutton chops scratching against your cheek ear as he babbled in gruff murmurs. "Wake up, honey."

But he had no patience for his 'wife' to rise from her slumber. Your stirring only egged him on as he caged your slumbering body in with hands on either side of your shoulders. Moving the blanket down to reveal your covered form. He huffed in disapproval. "Tuckered out? Didn't even undress." He scolded but there was no heat to his words as he began to undo the buttons of your jeans and eased them down your legs. Shifting your shirt as high as he could before grunting as your unconscious form was no help.

"this why..you need me." His chest pressed heavily down onto your back as his large hands wandered along your curves. Pinching at the chub he didn't remember Colleen having but it's been so long he just dismissed it. "Keep ya nice and warm."

John couldn't wait any longer. Pushing your underwear to the side and his fingers curled against the fabric as he rutted against your silky folds through the fabric of his briefs. Like a dog in heat his hips grinded hard against your sex. His nose burying in your neck as he huffed the smell of perfume - he got her that for their anniversary. He knew she was still missing him. All that bullshit of insisting she'd never wear one of his gifts again. Throwing out jewelry that was now deemed tacky, all because he bought it, and clothes she just shunned as old news.

With a growl he yanked his boxers down as he grabbed his already half hard cock. Rubbing it through your glistening sex, already so wet for him. Perfect little wife. He didn't take long for him to chub to full mass as he huffed at the floral scent on your neck. "Gonna fix it- gonna fix everything-"

As soon as his cock pressed into your entrance you were startled awake. The sudden sting making your eyes pry open. Your breathing hitched as you heard John's voice mumbling something into your skin as you opened your mouth but he just shushed you. "None of that. Don't start, just need you tonight." He presses his hips frimer to your ass as the fat head of his cock speared your cunt. He groaned deeply with a curse knocked out of him. "So fucking tight-"

Your cheeks burned as you tried to squirm away from the blistering heat of your poor fluttering walls being pried apart by his sheer girth. Gasping into the pillow. With a huff John yanked you further down with a sharp tug on your underwear, his free hand pressing down on the back of your neck to keep you nice and arched. Any words you tried to squeak out immediately muffled.

"that's it, just open up for me, Coll." He cooed, the stretch of alcohol thick on his breath as he squeezed your neck. Feeling the way your pussy betrayed you, crying all over his big dick as you heard each grunt and groan rattle in your ears. Just able to hear it over the sound of your own heart thumping so loudly you thought for a moment it lodged itself into your skull. "Atta girl."

As soon as your ass was flush to his pelvis you let out a whimper. Clutching at the bedding your eyes squeezed shut. The pain faded into a dull numbness before the tug of a vein rubbing against your walls had you softly moaning. So full. You could barely breathe with how far it was pressed to your stomach. Surely shoving your organs up and lodging them into your throat. A knot tight in it as your eyes fluttered open.

Unable a moment to breathe as he guided you back onto his cock with every thrust that sent you jolting forward. The stitches of your underwear screamed as he set his pace. sloppy but reaching deep within. Kissing your cervix with each thrust as you trembled. Blinking you didn't even notice the tears that poured down your heated cheeks as you kept shaking your head. Any attempt of protest cut off by your own traitorous moan.

Fuck it feels good. Why must if feel so good. You've imagined what his cock would feel like but you never imagined this. Never thought you'd actually be feel it drill into your poor cunt as you sniffled and sobbed.

John could barely restrain himself. When did her pussy ever feel this good? So tight and clamping down on his cock as if it were the first time. Has it really been so long that her body became as foreign to him as it he was to her. That made his teeth grit as he panted. "Shit- gonna- fuuck-"

He didn't need to say if for you to know. Your stomach clenched as your thighs tried to squeeze tight together like that would stop anything. Not with his thick thighs spreading your legs wide and welcoming for him. "J-John-" you hiccuped.

Voice so strained it became high pitched. Needy. It made his head spin or maybe that was just the alcohol catching up to him. Groaning deep from within his chest as he flooded your tight hole with hot ropes of cum. Rolling his hips lazily with each squirt. "Sorry...been too long-" he kissed your shoulder and your cheek. "You feel like heaven, love."

But John was never a selfish lover. He let go of your underwear as he remained snugly slotted into your warmth. Relishing in its slick heat. Thick fingers finding your clit with startling ease as he rubbed in circles. Fast and his rhythm broken but with how your clit was already throbbing needily it didn't deter your body from singing out. Hands clawing at the pillow your face was buried against as you bucked into the friction. Shaking your head as you tried to fight off how good it felt.

Whines spilling out of you as you chanted pleas and curses but it all fell on deaf ears. "Ohh- oh!" You pulsed around him as your own orgasm tightened in your lower belly. No matter how much you tried to deter it, John was insistent of your pleasure.

"c'mon on, Coll, make a mess on my cock." He cooed as he pressed more of his weight down into your back to keep you from squirming too much. "Know you miss it."

You cried out as it crashed over you. Stars filling your already blurry vision as stray droplets of tears fell down. The cover of the pillow damp with your tears and specks of drool you desperately tried to swallow down.

Both of you just laying there for awhile. You were stiff as a rock and he was slowly rolling his hips. Fucking his cum deeper into you with more kisses to your sticky skin. His hand weaving up to your hair as he tugged your head from the pillow. Blinking sluggishly as he expected to be greeted with the face of his wife but instead he was met with his babysitter. Cheeks streaked with tears and your lips parted with a small gloss of drool. Sniffling as your eyes latched to his dumb stare. Just looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

"you're not my wife."

[the-californicationist]

he opens the mail

Captain Price opens a package, thinking it’s intel, but it’s a sex pollen. The only cure? Your pussy, apparently.

Warning: sex pollen tropes, extremely dubious consent, attempt at satire?, angry john price

“We’re never going to make this deadline. Laswell’s gonna kill me,” you complained, burying your head in the pile of envelopes and packages strewn over your desk. 

“Did this to yourself, lass. Shoulda been keepin’ up with intel duty. Wee bit at a time, ‘s what I say,” Soap patted you on the shoulder, feigning pity. 

You spent hours combing through the documents, and by the time everyone had gone to bed, your fingers were covered in paper cuts, and your vision was blurry from squinting at the poorly scrawled Cyrillic words. 

You thought you were alone, and as you stood up to stretch and refill your coffee mug, Captain Price opened up the office door, scaring you half to death. 

“Oh, hey Corporal,” he smiled and then furrowed his brow, “What are you still doing here?”

You sighed, pointing to the piles of documents,

“Laswell’s intel backlog. I’m the only one with a Level 3 linguistics cert for Russian, so here I am. Gonna be an all-nighter.”

He closed the door and sat down across from your seat, digging into the pile, 

“I’m Level 3. Let’s finish it.”

“Captain, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you’ve got more important things…”

Price shook his head, taking off his hat and hanging it on the chair back,

“Nah, tha’s alright, love. I’ll help ya. Get us a tea, yeah?”

You knew how he took his tea, and you hated that you did. Secretly, you were obsessed with him. He was always around, smelling like balsam wood and tobacco, looking like a gladiator, huge and capable in the most masculine way. It was hard to concentrate when he was nearby. Now that he had offered to help, you had to grin and bear it. 

You worked together for a while, chatting, even laughing. It was nice. You had so much in common, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself much more at ease. Finally, three packages remained. You opened the first one and found little more than phone records for a local library. Unhelpful to say the least. Price opened a water bill, and he recognized the address of a recent Konni base location. Any intel at this point felt like a celebration. Then, the final box. 

“Go on then. Show us the ending,” he smiled, handing it to you. 

“Couldn’t take the joy of ripping up the last letter, Captain. Be my guest,” you smiled. 

He chuckled, tearing into the envelope. In a flash, bright pink powder sprayed him directly in the eyes, and he writhed in pain, pinching them shut, his whole body going stiff. 

“Fuck me!” He shouted. 

“Hang on,” you ran over to the sink in the kitchenette, “Here’s some water. Get that shit out of your eyes.”

“Don’t,” he moved away from you like you were on fire, “Don’t touch me. Might be contagious.”

Your chest was rising and falling with your labored breathing, and you were immediately worried. You reached for your phone and called Laswell.

“Laswell, Price got anthraxed by one of the intel letters. What do you want us to do?”

She gasped, 

“What? Shit. I’m on my way.”

She hung up on you. You watched Price slowly try to open his eyes. They were stained hot pink from the powder. 

“You alright?” You asked him. 

“Yeah, love,” he sighed, “Doesn’t hurt anymore. Feeling strange though. Laswell said she’s coming?”

You nodded,

“Yeah, just in case.”

He nodded, running his hand along the inside of his collar. The captain was sweaty and a little pale. 

“Captain, are you okay?”

“Mmm, no,” he shook his head, “Something’s not right, love.”

He stood and went to the sink, washing as much of the powder off as he could. You moved away from him and stationed yourself across the room, praying for Laswell to hurry. 

Price was in a bad way. He took off his shirt, and he was still dripping with beads of sweat. You tried not to stare, but his temperature wasn’t the only thing heating up. His huge cock was making a prominent tent in his pants, but he was in too much pain to bother hiding it. You felt yourself blushing, and you willed yourself to pull it together. 

“…fuckin’ hell,” his hand went to his crotch to squeeze his length, trying to find some relief, “Sorry, love.”

“It’s okay,” you said politely, trying to breathe normally, but feeling the slick rush melt between your legs. 

“It’s makin’ me…feel…bloody hell. I can’t hold it off. Can…can you…? No! No, what the fuck am I sayin’? No,” he shook his head, rubbing his hands down his face, hot and very bothered. 

You inched closer to him,

“If I haven’t been affected yet, I’m sure it’s okay. How should I help you?”

“No! No, stay back. I’m not…I can’t think straight. My mind’s got one thing on it,” he shoved his hands beyond his zipper and began to jerk himself off, his dick making lurid noises with his hand. 

You hated seeing him so helpless. You moved to his side,

“Cap, it’s okay. Let me help you.”

His hand was around your throat in milliseconds. Price shoved you against the wall and began to kiss your mouth, furiously laving his tongue against yours. 

“No, no, no,” he whispered through his kisses, not bothering to pull away as he spoke his lamentations. 

You made the mistake of putting your hands on his chest to steady yourself. He moaned, trembling beneath your touch,

“Ahh, careful.”

“Sorry,” you pulled your hands away, still trapped in his firm grip around your neck, “did I hurt you?”

“No, doesn’t hurt.”

He said it in a way that darkly implied your touch was igniting a different kind of fire. You put your hands back where they were, and his eyes shot open, piercing through yours with a lustful rage. Unexpectedly, he ripped off your shirt and lay you down on the black leather couch in the corner of the office. He crushed you with his weight, kissing you deeply. 

Then, your phone rang. He didn’t allow you to pause, so it went to voicemail. It rang again. You were getting just as hot as he was, and you weren’t that interested in who was looking for you in the middle of the night. Until, however, the door to the office burst wide open and Laswell and Gaz burst through it. 

Price snarled. You’d never heard a man make that noise before. Laswell put her hands on her hips while Gaz tried to shield his face in shock. Laswell rubbed her forehead, frustrated,

“Are his eyes pink, Corporal?”

You escaped his jaws for a moment, 

“Yeah, why?”

“It’s a sex drug. Forces the user to fornicate as it is only passed through the body in seminal fluid, dissolving in the heat of another person’s body. Are you volunteering here? What happened?”

Her tone was so matter of fact, it was a little humorous, if Price’s length wasn’t rutting against you in earnest, you might've laughed. You tried to explain as much as he would allow,

“Got too close… just… happened. How…” you moaned as Price pulled down the strap of your bra and helped himself to your nipple, “How did you know?”

She sighed, typing something into her datapad,

“Checked the incident log from this afternoon. Four more cases of this have popped up in intel collections. Gonna have to screen for it next time.”

She turned to walk out of the office with Gaz, and you called after her,

“Hey, wait! How long does it - oh, fuck… how long does it last?”

Laswell had the audacity to smirk at you, raising her eyebrows and cutting her eyes at Price’s swollen cock, lolling out of his pants, scraping itself against you. 

“Eight hours. Looks like you’re in for a rough night, Corporal. Maybe next time you’ll be more careful.”

Part 2

[iifishizzleii]

“you’re just so small :(“ “he doesn’t want to hurt ur tiny body” “his fist is bigger than your womb” “his hand is the size of your entire stomach” “:( small baby no hurt by big man soldier”-

eeughhhaa🤨

brotha eeughhhaa🤢🤢🤢👹👹🤕🤒🤒🤮🤧

[kittsch]

ranking cod boys' intimacy style from gentle to rough feat: 141 + los vaqueros + others reader: afab, implied different readers for each cw: explicit smut, kink, fluff, pretty tame imo but lmk if you'd like something tagged NSFW BELOW CUT * MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

1.) the gentlest, surprisingly, is ghost. make no mistake, he'll absolutely fuck the daylights out of you if you ask him to -- would enjoy it, too. but as simon riley... honestly, this man is touch-starved and nearing forty. he is tired, baby. coming home from deployment, first thing simon does is shower (knows you hate the smell of war on him), then take a fat nap with you. if you're in the middle of something, no you're not. he'll literally scoop you up and fireman-carry you to the couch or bed, whichever is closest. simon loves holding you, wants to be touching you all. the. time. his favorite way to nap is wrapped around you like a fitted sheet; skin on skin, nose in your hair as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo. loves it even more when, later, he gets to wake you with soft, open-mouthed kisses on your neck; the flat of his palm sliding down the gentle swell of your tummy, cuping you through your sleep shorts. simon likes you best like this. how you just... melt into him, still sleep-sodden and docile. it's one of the few things that feels right in his life. chemically, cosmically, karmically (somehow--simon doesn't think he'll ever feel like he earned this. you. that he'll ever really deserve to be yours). he takes his time; fucks you slow with his fingers, savoring your muted whimpers as he grinds into your clit with the heel of his hand. to simon, watching you come apart in the firm circle of his arms is kin to a fresco on a ceiling; a sliver of the divine, and he, a sinner, doomed to watch heaven from afar. but by some small miracle, you offer him salvation. when you cum, it's with his name on your lips, so round and lush with love, and fuck--if that isn't the thing to save him, then nothing will.

2.) second is rudy. sweet, sweet boy. he sees you barefoot in a sundress one time. one. that's all it takes to precipitously shift the trajectory of his life to one where he wifes you up and makes you a mother, in that order. you're the first person he's ever envisioned having children with -- the only one he thinks knows will be worth risking everything for. and once that mental picture settles in his mind, it’s all he can think of. it becomes his sole mission to get you under him and fill you with him til it takes. rudy is a missionary guy through and through--wants to see that pretty face, cariño so he can watch your cheeks and chest flush when you're about to cum. and the cute way your lashes flutter ("como alles de pollila, mi amor. fuck--") as he bottoms out in your sweet pussy, stretching you so good. and you're always so good for him -- wrapping your legs around his waist and tilting your hips to take him deeper, deeper. but god help you when he succeeds in knocking you up, you’re never getting a moment alone. consider rudy glued to your side for the foreseeable future. can’t seem to keep his goddamn hands to himself, either. doesn't matter that you’re uncomfortable and prickly and prone to random bouts of inconsolable crying at the worst moments. he takes it all in stride. his love is steady, solid. once, you blurt out something to the effect of i'm never going to be attractive again, my body is gonna be ruined by the end of this. and rudy (after a beat) laughs. pulls you forward til your face is buried in his chest, cradles you there when you try to squirm away. tells you he's literally so attracted to you right now he feels like he should be on some sort of list. he's watching you build a new human being inside your body. you're fucking powerful. he can't imagine anything sexier.

3.) next up is könig. from jump, he adores you; the way you smolder at the edges, the unwavering bite of your tone. kleine katze, such pretty claws you have... and he's perfectly content to settle for admiring you from afar; but where others shy from him instinctually, finding his size and perpetual quiet off-putting, you don't. seem to gravitate towards him because of it. you touch him with a gentleness that should feel foreign, but actually feels like home. this man is fucking gone for you. loves you in a way that irreparably and fundamentally changes him. may or may not have cum more than once to the thought of you: hips bucking desperately into the clench of his own fist. but he knows precisely nichts about romance, even less about flirting. has no idea you've been trying to get his attention for months. ultimately, you have to make the first move. and you do--crawling into his lap one night in a grimy off-grid safehouse after a mission went the wrong kind of sideways. when you draw up the mask he goes rigid, tense; but he almost lost you today. (thought for one endless, horrific moment that he had.) so he lets you pull back the mask--lets you see his face. and when you finally kiss him, it pulls a kind of sound out of him the likes of which he's never made before. a desperate, animal keen that claws at the walls of his chest. and könig's a gentle giant, but he is giant. you're both too hasty the first time; too desperate for closeness to prep properly, so it hurts when he bullies his cock inside you. he's significantly bigger than any of your previous partners -- twice as thick and several inches longer -- and by all rights shouldn't fucking fit inside you, but you're both tenacious enough to make it work. könig is certain salvation resides in the gummy clutch of your cunt when you take him to the hilt; shuddering as you cum around him from nothing but the way his cock stuffs you full and the pressure of his calloused thumb on your clit. it's so unbelievably hot, he cums on the spot; not needing friction or movement when he has you clenching down on him like that, scheiße. after, he takes care of you--holds you close to his chest til your breath evens out and you slip into the dreamless, black pool of sleeping.

4.) alejandro, my love. truly a man of passion. it's a long process seducing you, and he enjoys every minute of it. loves finding new ways to get you to blush almost as much as he enjoys fucking you til you're blubbering and cock-stupid. almost. he likes the idea of having a family with you, but is less pernicious about it than rudy. he knows how he feels about you; is confident it'll happen someday. that said, this man's breeding kink knows no bounds. the mating press was built for him; the perfect mix of intimacy and intensity, where he can look you in the eye as he ruts you so deep you can feel him in your fucking throat. also the most likely to suggest expanding your sexual horizons. frankly, alejandro is bisexual as fuck. loves the idea of you getting railed by another man (perhaps rudy, winkwonk) while he watches; loves the idea of you taking the both of them at once even more, but it's always about you. your comfort and pleasure is paramount, and he'll go to unfathomable lengths to make sure your needs are met. happy wife, happy life, he says, hauling you into a deep kiss when you point out that you're not technically married, yet.

5.) alex is the perfect equilibrium of rough and gentle. initially respects you as a colleague, maybe a friendly acquaintance. internally, he finds your competence and no bullshit attitude deeply attractive, but he's a consummate professional; would never put you into a position where you'd feel unsafe (outside of the obvious dangerous shit you already do). and then--he sees you shoot a gun. the way your body slides liquid-smooth into weaver, the easy roll back into isosceles in the recoil... it gets him so fucking hard so fucking quick. he has to physically remove himself from the range and rub one out in a bathroom stall, images of those firm hands pumping his weeping cock pulling him over the edge. images that don't fade, to his chagrin, even after the initial arousal is dealt with. every time he sees you, it just... pops back up, so to speak. he keeps it locked down as best he can, but fails pretty comprehensively at doing so. alex finally breaks after catching one too many recruits staring after you when you walk away (fuckin' animals--only he's allowed to do that). he seeks you out when you're both off the clock and ends up fucking you on top of one of the washing machines in the base's communal laundry room. the epitome of soft dom, comes pre-programmed with an obligatory daddy kink that you absolutely abuse to get your way. takes you out to nice restaurants seemingly for the express purpose of fucking you in the fancy-schmanzy bathroom. honest-to-god almost passes out when you choke on his cock for the first time; begs like his life is on the line for you to do it again, please, please--oh, fuck baby, yes. that experience reveals two truths to him: one, that he might be a switch, and two, that he might just have to marry you.

6.) now, keegan is a pretty tough nut to crack. it's hard to read him initially, even without the mask--but once you pick up on his tells, he's an open book. and that book wants you upended on the couch within seconds of you both entering the room. initially its just sex; a shared need to vent some frustration and stress. keegan is very private, mostly due to social discomfort and introverted tendencies. in the early days of your relationship, it manifests as him keeping you at a distance. for the first few months, he only ever kisses you when he's balls deep, and leaves after a five-minute come down. you rectify this through sheer persistence and charm. it's clear to you (far sooner than it is to him) that he's weakest to you when you give him big, sweet doe eyes and ask real pretty. this little trick works particularly well when you're riding him slow over the course of an hour, grinding down each time he bottoms out, til he's shuddering and begging you to please go faster--ah. f-fuckin' hell, kid, you're so tight, so good, fuck. when he cums, it's with a crackling whine of your name that pulls the knot of heat in your belly, sending you over after him. then, exhausted and fucked out, he falls asleep with you in his arms. he's still there the next morning when you wake, expression open and lax as he watches you wake. it's the first time you see keegan without reservations, when you realize he's got a gentleness to him--a kind of poet's sensitivity meant for libraries, museum archives, and the kinder side of nature. all overwritten by force to survive, to complete his mission. once you've seen the cracks in his mask, there's no going back for either of you. very quickly, your relationship shifts from distant and transactional to deeply personal; a tenderness blooming in the same garden as the newfound dedication to one another. keegan doesn't say I love you for a long time, but you know he does--you feel it in the way his dark eyes find you in a crowd, always seeking your familiar shape. you feel it in the way he presses your bodies flush from tip to tail while he's fucking you, when being inside of you isn't close enough. you feel it when he, for the very first time, asks you quietly if you'll stay the night with him, because he sleeps easier when you're there. so you stay--the night, and all those that follow.

7.) oh, gaz. such a mischievous little shit. your friend from your training days, you two scrap like puppies over anything and everything. banter is the cornerstone of your relationship, one-upping being a close second. you delight and infuriate one another in equal measure, bickering amongst yourselves til one of you takes a swing at the other. price has reprimanded you both multiple times for horsing around, but you're never in any real danger--you work too well together. there's a kind of shared consciousness between you; a base-level understanding, two wolves hunting in tandem. still, ghost refuses to let either of you sit together on the heli; not since that one time your game of grabass devolved into full-on grappling on the tarmac. ultimately, one of your little tiffs goes too far; ends with you both laid out on a training mat, groaning into each other's mouth as you grind your hips together through your clothes. you both pretend it didn't happen for maybe a week--then it happens again. and again. and again. being 'together' is never something you actually discuss with kyle. it just... happens. much to the chagrin of your lt and captain, the bickering actually increases when you two get together; becomes more like foreplay you can get away with doing in front of your superiors. and if this man isn't an absolute goddamn menace when it comes to exhibitionism. when he wants you, doesn't matter if you're in the middle of a meeting. fuck it--it's happening, and it's happening now. very playful in and out of the bedroom, likes teasing you in every sense of the word. he edges you so long sometimes you nearly kick him in the head when he finally lets you cum. there's my girl--oh shi--ah, haah, good fuckin' girl. he's largely aloof when it comes to his emotions--not the best at verbalizing how he's feeling or what he needs. so instead, he shows you. he shows up every. single. time. kyle's your friend before he's your lover; your partner in (war) crime(s). he's always got your six, you've always got his, and what is love if not someone who'd die (and live) for you?

8.) soap proudly describes himself as a pleasure dom, which is mostly true. but he's got serious switch potential. which you know for a fact because fuckin' hell, does that boy whimper somethin' pretty when you throat him juuuuust right. he's such a 'tits' man, it's crazy. loves to hold you close, feel your breasts smashed against his chest while he drives deep into the tight clutch of your cunt. but most of all, soap loves being on his knees for you. this man definitely moans while he eats you out, tonguing your pussy like it's a mouth. he feels big in every sense of the word--in sex, in love, in anger. and make no mistake, he loves you deeply. you two have some serious yelling matches, storm about slamming doors til the neighbors threaten to call the feds, but it's just your way. you're both headstrong and stupid; arguments are bound to happen, and any unresolved hurt feelings get a solid patch-job from the frankly earth shattering makeup sex that follows. like rudy, soap wants a big family with you, and he knew early. actually doesn't tell you just how early til years down the line. how after your first official date, he called his ma and asked if she'd send his nan's ring, please? because he's pretty sure he just met his future wife. said ring which glitters on your hand now, as you reach over and flick his forehead teasingly. tell him he can stop trying to romance you, you're already married. and could he grab more diapers on his way home from work?

9.) as are all things with graves, your sexual relationship is about power. he's an asshole in the worst way--condescending, smug, underhanded, sneaky in his sexism so you always look like some hysterical woman when you retaliate. the kicker? it turns you on as much as it pisses you off. he's happy to string you along, work you into a lather just to leave you high and dry. lord help you once he gets a taste of you--bending you over his desk and cramming you full of his cock with precisely zero prep. he kisses you, loves you, fucks you like he hates you. because he kind of does--he just wants you more. graves loves it when you cry, wipes your tears with his thumb before forcing it into your mouth. coos when you offer your neck up to him--yeah? want my hands on ya that bad, sugar? gonna be a good girl for me, hm? fuck yeah you are--and proceeds to make you cum so hard you black out. your 'relationship' (which it is; ring on your finger a year in, a little one on your hip not long after) is intense. toxic. would be just downright miserable if it wasn't so fucking hot. you cling to each other with gouging force; a livid-blue kind of love, painful and permanent. he carries a picture of you in his wallet: a small polaroid of you in your wedding dress, ashing a cigarette with one hand while the other flips the cameraman (him) the bird.

10.) and the roughest of them all: price wants more than to love or fuck you -- he wants to possess you. he's so tightly controlled everywhere else in his life (has to be for his work), doesn't seem the type to lose his head over a bird. but when he meets you, something shifts. you're soft. impossibly good. flippant and stubborn as a mule, sure -- you drive him up the fuckin' wall with your headstrong antics. (so goddamn petulant. so sure you're fuckin' right.) but war and death hasn't stained your world, left your indomitable spirit unsullied and intact. which, unfortunately, means you haven't gotten a thorough education on the importance of discipline. price wants to consume your disobedience; crack your rose-tinted glasses under his heel, roll the ambrosia of you in his cupped tongue. he'll do more than make you fall in line -- he'll make you want to do it. it's really just a matter of time before he acts on it. when he does, it's decisive. unsubtle. he crowds you up against the door of your flat on a sticky summer night, brandy on your breath. sinks a hand into your hair, holds you steady as he brings your mouths together with bruising intensity. he fucks you before he ever makes love to you; sinks his teeth into the velvet of your shoulder as he crushes you flat to the tabletop using just his bodyweight. snarls low when you keen wordlessly, overwhelmed and empty-headed at the deep burn-sting of his cock stretching your pretty little cunt, the lewd slap of his thighs against your ass. he batters you til you're not sure what's sweat and what's tears; til your skin bears a mural to his cacoethes, all blue and purple like a deep west sunrise. til there's not a person alive who won't be able to see you're his. always have been, always will, right dove? go on--tell him. tell him who this pussy belongs to.

written by kittsch, do not repost. not to be used for bots nor AI of any kind.

[as-is-above-so-below]

Cardigan - John Price x F!Teacher!Reader

Part 1: It Starts In A Bar

summary: your friends take you out to a local pub when you would much rather be grading assignments. a/n: hello! big surprise, me writing for john price! I don't know how long this will be, but I definitely have a general idea of where I want this to go. I hope y'all like it!

thank you @lethalchiralium for dragging me into the clubhouse kicking and screaming LMAO << Previous | Next >>

Why did they pick this place again?

Ah, right. “It’s a hometown pub, a staple to the community,” they said. That was clear from the couple dozen men and women, ranging from middle-aged to elderly, scattered about, and a few younger folks peppered into the crowd. It wasn’t run down by any means, just…a dive. You mindlessly picked at the peanuts and pretzels in little bowls, elbows perched on the edge of the sticky table, for hours. You chatted and occasionally laughed at the stories they shared about their homeroom students and the shenanigans the other grades got up to. You’d been teaching year thirteen for a while, students taking their A-levels in history. 

It was supposed to be a quiet evening, spent with a stack of papers to grade, surrounded by glowing candles scattered around your apartment accompanied by soft white string lights stretched across the ceiling. Instead, your friends somehow managed to drag you out of your cozy home to a dark dive in town. You loved them dearly (really, you did), but you had a routine. Your ideal Friday night wasn’t in a damp bar.

Your kids could be challenging at times in their late teens. They occasionally cause trouble, known for getting into fights, interrupting class, or bringing drama into the classroom. Nevertheless, you’d never had a set of students that was more than you could handle. They turned their work in on time and were always nosy about your personal life, which – much to their chagrin – was uneventful. Your love life was stale, to put it nicely. And your friends tried everything in their power to set you up on dates, every single one striking out miserably. It didn’t feel natural to meet some guy at a restaurant for a blind date.

One of them talked about themselves the entire time, barely letting you get a word in. The next ordered about three more drinks than you and a meal that cost twice as much as yours but demanded you split the cost of the date. You were all for splitting the bill but on the first date? Not a good impression.

The rest were uninteresting and immemorable.

“Seriously? You haven’t been on a date since – Oh, what was his name again?”

“Zachary,” you pointed out, taking a long sip of your drink. “You should know; you set up the date.”

“I know, I know. I didn’t realize he was such a bore one-on-one.”

“Thanks for that, by the way. Loved talking to myself for two hours.”

You all laughed at the memory, starting to finish drinks and gather belongings. “Let’s get to the next spot to find you a man!”

Bar hopping was the absolute last thing you wanted to do, but you knew better than to resist. It would all be over much faster if you just went along. Your companions were much quicker on their exit, considering the nearly-full drink that you felt like you just bought, and they were already moving on to the next dig. You threw the rest of your drink back, flinching as the big gulp of alcohol burned down your throat, and hurried to catch up with them. You took one of their outstretched hands, giggling as they just about pulled you into the circle exiting the pub–

“Excuse me, miss!” a deep voice called out. You’re not sure why, but you turned, feeling like the man was calling out to you. Your assumption turned out to be correct, and a tall, dark-haired man with a beard and a soft smile approached you. “Sorry, you left this.”

He held your cardigan to you. You must have abandoned it in your haste.

“Oh! Thank you so much. That’s kind of you,” you said, taking the garment back and draping it over your forearm. “I’d forget my head if it weren’t attached,” you added, tapping your temple with a soft chuckle.

“Quite alright.” Behind you, an elbow nudged your spine; you barely caught yourself from making a face and snapping at whichever acquaintance decided to egg you on. “I’d offer to buy you a drink, but it seems you’re heading out.”

He certainly was handsome. His beard was well-groomed, just like his hair. It looked like he went to a barber fairly recently. He even dressed well, in a cream, ribbed polo tucked loosely into his jeans. Dark chest hair peeked out where the top two buttons were undone. It was an enticing offer…

“Um, yeah, but….” You looked over your shoulder and met expectant glances. Some looked like they were about to bust apart at the seams with glee, which made you roll your eyes. Clearly, you wouldn’t be missed. “I could hang for a little while longer.”

The man's smile grew, and his stance shifted to open a path toward the bar. “Are you sure? Y’don’t have to,” he amended, his hands in his pockets. His energy was warm and soft but still masculine. He held a confidence that not many people carried, at least not the men you’d been on dates with recently. And the Liverpool accent? Maybe things were starting to look up.

“No, no, I honestly need another drink.” You flashed your teeth back to him, folding your arms over your chest with your sweater in hand.

“In that case, after you.”

Before taking his arm, you realized you’d yet to even ask for his name. “Thank you…?”

“John.” John’s right hand hovered before you and he flashed his bright teeth. His hands were clean, nails neatly trimmed. Although, one nail bed was bruised.

Man, he’s pretty for a grown man.

“Y/N,” you replied with an easy grin. He kept a steady hold on your gaze, carefully examining the bright twinkle they held. You didn’t know it, but John had just returned from a long mission. One that had left him yearning for a shower, a haircut, and somebody to come home to. He’d never had anything to look forward to and stay alive for; no affection or comfort after a rough assignment, no one to care for and spoil.

And he wanted that.

“A surname to that, John?” you asked, sliding your hand through the loop he created with his elbow. Holy shit, he was strong. Your hand rested on the soft but well-built muscle of his bicep. You figured he must have a labor-intensive job, or he goes to the gym frequently. John didn’t seem like the type to spend hours at the gym in his spare time, so you went with the first option. You’d keep that in mind when making small talk later.

“John Price.”

“Very regal name.”

John scoffed but laughed nonetheless. “That’s the first time I’ve heard that.”

John couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were unbelievably bubbly, especially for interacting with a stranger who only gave back your forgotten cardigan. He’d been watching you from his spot at the bar, laughing with your friends but zoning out every once in a while. He was no stranger to giving himself a mental break, particularly in a hectic environment like a packed bar on a cool, Friday evening.

“I’ll call you when I need a ride!”

You and John watched the giggly group exit the pub, happily waving as they piled into a cab. You waved back with your free hand, your other palm still pressed against his warm skin. They didn’t embarrass you too badly, thank god. You met John’s eyes, a dark color twinkling with mischief.

“Your friends seem chipper.”

“I’m so sorry. They’re just happy to see me talking to a man.” 

“Oh? Is that right?” he chuckled, nodding to your previously held table. John broke away briefly to retrieve his unfinished drink and denim jacket from the bar.

You followed his lead back to the booth, attempting to keep control of the flush you felt beginning to heat your cheeks. “They’ve set me up on many an unfortunate date. Not saying I don’t get along fine on my own, but–”

“It’s rough out there?” he finished, sliding into the cushioned seat across from you. When you nodded in return, John smirked. “Believe me. I get it. My career makes it difficult to find time for much of anything.”

“Yeah, well, I have sixteen kids.”

The man sputtered, choking on what looked to be an old-fashioned. Possibly a bad joke, but it was such a great opportunity; you were feeling frisky, and you couldn’t help the giggles that erupted following his reaction. “I teach history for year thirteen.”

“Oh, thank Christ.” John wiped the cocktail off his lip with the back of his hand, shaking his head at your laughter. “You had me going there. Five minutes into our date, and I’ve made a mess of myself.”

You quirked a brow. “So this is a date?”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, I would consider it light conversation. Getting to know each other.”

“That’s a date.”

“Mmm, I’d say it’s more casual than that.”

“I’m not looking for casual, love.”

You paused, examining his calm demeanor. He didn’t seem cocky, but honest, a welcome change to the pattern you’d observed over the last few months. None of your dates had been so bold as to know what they want and make their intentions clear. Especially not so quickly. It was refreshing.

“Me neither.”

“Good.”

You both sat in peace, pausing your conversation for the waitress. You ordered another drink, as promised, and folded your hands on the tabletop, fingers laced. “So, what do you do, John?” you asked, tapping your thumbs together.

“I’m in the military.”

You paused, expectantly waiting for him to continue, only to be met with silence.

“Care to elaborate?”

He tutted once with his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. “I would love to, but I can’t.”

Interesting. Normally, resistance like that would be a red flag. On the other hand, his job could be “classified” or whatever is said in the movies. No alarms went off in your mind; your intuition told you that John was trustworthy, so you let it go. The pretty brunette dropped your new drink off and another for John.

“I can tell you that I’m a Captain.”

“So you have pretend kids too?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners as he hummed, swirling the whiskey in his glass. A slight tinge of the citrus notes from the expressed orange peel wafted across the table. John’s laugh was distinctive, chesty and rumbly, inviting. “Of course. Mine are bigger, though, I’m sure.”

“Oh? They’re not scrawny little soldiers?”

“No. One’s almost two meters tall.”

“Jesus. How many?”

“Five. Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alex, and Farah.”

“Well, I for one can’t wait to meet them.”

“Likewise.”

You fussed with your hair for about the thousandth time in your bathroom mirror and huffed when it wouldn’t settle right. John was to meet you in about fifteen minutes. Knowing him, that meant he would be buzzing up to your apartment any second. You’d been on a few dates and knew his date habits pretty well. If you’re not fifteen minutes early, you’re late. You had been out to dinner, grabbed coffee once or twice; you even grabbed an ice cream. So, it was a surprise when John suggested a trip to the museum. It didn’t seem like his thing, but you weren’t about to turn down a trip to the history exhibit.

As you expected, a familiar BZZT BZZT reverberated through your flat, signaling his arrival. The first time he picked you up, you let him into the building without using the intercom. You tried explaining that the speaker broke and your landlord had yet to fix it (shocker), but John wouldn’t hear it. You could have been letting in a random creep pressing buttons until some tenant unlocked the door. He insisted on creating a little system, so you would know it was him downstairs and not a kidnapper. From then on, he always rang the bell twice.

You gave up on your hair, switched the light off, and paged him in. Your unit was on the first floor (which wasn’t ideal), so it only took John a few seconds to reach your door. When you heard a knock at your door, you peered through the peephole (as promised) before unlocking the deadbolt, revealing a very well-dressed captain. John’s hair was a bit shaggy, but it suited him well. Your heart fluttered helplessly at the bright smile that appeared when he laid eyes on you, his gaze obviously taking in the sight before him.

It was a weeknight, and you didn’t have time to change between school and your usual errands. You threw a plaid skirt, thigh-high socks, and loose sweater together; just a sliver of skin showed between the top of your socks and hem of your skirt. You felt underdressed compared to John, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. 

“Hi,” he said, leaning to kiss your cheek. “You look lovely.”

“Same to you. You always clean up well.”

“If you saw the state I’m usually in at work – you’d understand why.”

John kept a watchful eye to make sure you turned both locks for your door before guiding you outside to a waiting taxi with a hand on the small of your back. He held the door to your building and the car open for you. The drive was short, but the weather was starting to catch a bit of a chill, and you didn’t want to walk too far.

Ever the gentleman, the captain followed closely behind you up the steps to the gallery. Even if he weren’t perceptive, with years of experience reading people, he could tell you were excited to be there; however, he wasn’t so experienced in the ‘romance’ department. John honestly couldn’t even remember the last time he visited any museum, let alone a dedicated history exhibition. But when he suggested it and assured you that he would have a good time, he was only being partially truthful. Secretly, the man just wanted an excuse to listen to you talk. What better place to bring you than an exhibit where he knew you would talk his ear off for hours?

You slowly worked your way through each exhibit, explaining some pieces you recognized and their significance to the period; at displays you weren’t familiar with, you both quietly hovered closer to the title cards, reading through the description. While that kind of date wasn’t John’s usual cup of tea, he was glad he planned it; it helped him figure out how to slow the fuck down and try to be normal outside of a military setting or a pub.

His breath nearly stuttered every time you laid a gentle hand on his arm and drew his attention to the next section, beaming as you animately but quietly pointed out the tiny details in a Renaissance painting hung on the wall. The man couldn’t help but stare at how your lips curved at every syllable, wide eyes glued on the intricate scene portrayed. John hadn’t spoken much so far aside from the occasional affirmation that he was listening; he was very much in his head, unsure if you were excited to be there with him or just excited to be there. But, standing in front of the big painting, you went quiet. You met his gaze, and his lips pulled into a lopsided grin, which you returned before you both shifted back to the artwork. It was peaceful, absorbing the atmosphere and just existing together. Suddenly, John was jolted out of his reverie by the feeling of something brushing the side of his palm. 

You were itching to hold his hand all night but were too nervous to take that leap. What if he rejected you? That wasn’t likely after so many dates, but still. Your nerves got the better of you for the better half of the self-guided tour. Regardless, you had managed to work up the courage, cautiously grazing your pinky against his wrist and hand before wrapping it around his. You didn’t look away from the illustration, but he did, moving to you, then down to your hands.

He simply stared for a moment, surprised but positively giddy at the same time. Surely enough, John took your hand in his, interlocking your fingers and leaning just a bit closer to you. He could stand there forever, basking in your warmth and energy, the sound of your voice sinking into his every thought–

“Oh no,” you said, breaking the silence. You looked up at him worried, wrinkles forming between your brows. “I-I’m sorry. I was teaching again.”

He immediately gave you a reassuring squeeze, thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Don’t be. I like hearing you talk.” Jesus, did he have a way with words. He liked hearing you talk? With that accent, he could spew nonsense, and it would still draw you in. But hearing John Price give you compliments and praise? Flattery? You were a goner. “Tell me more about the next one?”

As if he could get any more fucking perfect.

“Okay.”

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

[angelatsumu]

secrecy. [j. price]

in which captain price denies his love for you publicly, and that doesn't go over well.

cw: angst (a tiny bit...like it's a little hurtful), SMUT, minors kick rocks DNI, price called daddy but is very switch/sub here, knife play, afab!reader, sorta toxic behavior (don't deny your spouse for a bit of approval with your friends bro), blood play a tiny bit, riding, overstimulation, not proofread

“there’s simply nothing worth settling down for lads. end of discussion.” your teeth met the inside of your cheek to stave off the grimace that fought to surface. your lover, the man you called your husband, had the audacity to allow such foolishly indignant words slip from his liquor laced tongue. the gall of the man who’d insisted you make him the happiest man on earth, the one who’d spent hours practicing his speech in the mirror, was something you’d found quite unexpected. to allow such insanity slip from those precious lips you kissed every morning was far more than an insult to your heart; it broke your pride. you’d pridefully and proudly called yourself the captain’s wife, head held higher than it had been before the silly ring on your finger. it was one thing to keep your marriage a secret—that you two had agreed upon—but to admonish your place in his heart? that was unmistakably cruel. your eyes met your lover’s as the men seemed to light-up at his words, applauding him for his dedication to the taskforce and military business. the display only made you want to revolt even more.

the drive home was quiet. normally you’d pretend to be a bit too drunk so that price could pretend to chivalrously take you to your apartment, but tonight you felt no need for such a foolish charade. there was simply no scent for your fellow task force members to follow because john had snuffed out that flame with his foolish banter. you sat bitterly brewing in your misery, flames of wicked jealousy licking at your heels with each passing moment. john could feel it radiating from you, the air too thick for him to swallow as he pridefully refused to concede and beg for forgiveness. the sheer thought of your husband standing by his bravado-littered statements covered you in a figurative sheen of vengeance. you were desperate for the opportunity to right him, to make him eat every little word he’d muttered. you had half the mind roll out of the moving car right this moment, but you decided against such reckless antics. instead, you’d decided to kickstart his own descent into delirium. there was nothing more tantalizing to your husband than making love to you, and perhaps that is where your edge lied.

the sight below you was gloriously sinful. your lover with flushed cheeks and tear-speckled eyes, precious blade of your combat knife nestled just beneath his jaw. your hand could slip and it would bring scarlet red droplets to the surface, giving him a closer shave than he’d bargained for. he knew this, and the thought made his cock stir inside your velvety walls. with each teasing roll of your hips a whimper fled john’s lips, soft pleas for your mercy. his eyes glistened at you as though you hung the stars, just as they were designed to. pressing the knife’s blade ever-so-lightly, you lifted your hips high enough that only the tip remained encased in your plush cunt. the action causes your husband’s brows to knit together as you hover there with the cruelest scowl you can manage. “please, love. ‘m sorry, daddy’s sorry,” he all but whimpers, hips stirring before halting at the feel liquid running down the side of his neck. you scoff at him, eyes narrowing as you lean closer to the object of your affection. your lips hover above his, breath fanning over his skin. “yeah? daddy’s sorry, hm?” he nods eagerly, knicking himself again in dumb desire to please you. you dip your head into the crook of his neck, deft tongue licking a stripe along the path of the stray droplet of blood. the action of ownership leaves your husband dizzy as an uncontrolled whimper leaves his lips. you hum, wicked grin pulling at your lips as you plop yourself down onto him. the fat of your ass claps against his thighs, and your head falls back at the feeling of being so full. you groan, rolling your hips forward just enough to catch your clit on the ridge of his pelvis. john’s hands instinctively move to clutch your hips, and you tut at him amusedly.

your cunt was driving john to insanity, and you weren’t too far behind him. the pace you’d set was increasingly tiring, but your abdomen continued to be set aflame with carnal desire. the clap of your ass against your husband’s lap resounded through the room as you fucked yourself—and him—stupid on his girthy length. orgasm after orgasm had rushed over the two of you, yet your desire for more never wavered. your grip on your beloved knife had since loosened enough that there was no true threat, though the thrill remained. your husband was beautifully fucked beneath you, lip quivering as his eyes struggled to stay open. your tight heat felt torturous, the sensation of your walls griping him like a vice bringing him to tears. your eyes intently glared down at your man, as much as you could while being fucked open. “can’t take anymore, love,” your husband whimpers, hands gripping your hips harshly as he weakly attempted to slow your movements. you huffed at him, hand moving to grip his jaw and force his gaze to yours. your gaze made his cock stir inside your plushy cunt. “you can take it,” you spat at him, squeezing his jaw at the hinges to force his mouth open. without thought you spat into your lover’s mouth, riding him with more tenacity as you felt your high approaching. “oh fuck,” he whined, head falling back from your gasp as you milked him for his last orgasm of the night. “you look at me when I fucking cum, and you remember who you settled down with, john,” you scold him, tugging on his dog tags to force him to meet your view again. the sight before you was picture worthy, pitiful fucked out captain gazing at you like you hung the stars in the sky; to him, you did. your orgasm swept you in a vicious wave of euphoria, thighs trembling as you moaned softly over your lover. the cant of your hips slows as you ride out your high, sweat-coated body leaning to press flush against his. john sighs, arms wrapping around you as he babbles apologies into your chest and neck. “never mean’ it, never say it again” he babbles softly, and you’re certain some of his brain oozed out from his ears with how thoroughly you’ve fucked him. with a sigh you untangle yourself from him, peering softly into his beautiful eyes before leaning to pepper kisses along his face. “i love you, John. thank you for letting me have this,” you hum softly. truly he could’ve called off the whole encounter, but he allowed you this relief. oh, what a lover you have.

likes + coments + rbs always appreciated <3 thx

[kismetarchive]

John prides himself in his professionalism but that professionalism wavered when he met his major's sweet eldest daughter.

cw: captain john price x fem!reader

John didn't become a captain through some stoke of luck. He clawed his way to the top — created a name for himself through sheer hard-work. Very few people could command him in the SAS, and one of those people was your father.

Your father was respected and feared, loved and detested — a man that made it to the top of the food chain with heavy scars to prove his worth.

You tagged along with your mother and father to some social event since your day was free while your little sisters went out with their friends. It's not like you had anything better to do so why not join them?

You smiled at every single one of your father's subordinates, noting how they all seemed to cower away and treated you like you were some bomb waiting to explode. It made a pout form on your face, feeling a bit frustrated that everyone thought you were like your gruff father.

Except one man. Captain price.

Not only did his warm smile make your heart leap out of your chest, but when he willingly extended his hand for a handshake and then kissed your knuckles — you became a puddle on the floor.

John knew the correct approach would have just been acknowledging his major's daughter but you were so pretty: your pretty navy blue blouse and chic white skirt that cut off at your thighs had his eyes glued to you. He swore you had a halo behind your head and a pair of white wings on your back — you looked so heavenly he would've fallen on his knees to worship you if you guys weren't at this event.

His boys could easily see the bewitched look on their captains face, teasing him and making smug remarks all throughout the night.

"The captains found a pretty bird, eh?"

He didn't care if you were the major's sweet daughter — he heard the soft gasp that came out your lips when his lips pressed against your skin and he knew he was going to be yours.

(Your dad was just happy that you picked one of his captains and not some snappy recruit)

「 Masterlist ❤︎ 」

[harveywritings92]

R/n, to Ghost: So... When were you planning on telling me you’re a vampire?

Ghost: Honestly, I was kind of under the impression that you already knew... You know... given your own nature.

R/n:...My what?

Ghost: Don’t play coy, yer a vamp too.

R/n: Uh, no I’m not.

Ghost: Yes, the hell you are I can smell it.

Soap [werewolf]: I think yer nose is broken.

König [werebear]: Ja, she’s a Vere-animal like us!

Soap: Right!

R/n: Wait, y-You guys are-

Gaz [Elf]: No! Your all wrong, look at that point on her ears! she’s obviously an Elf!

R/n, fidgets with her ears: My ears???...an Elf? What-

[R/n looks at everyone baffled that they were all monsters, as the monster men bicker with each other on what she was, Price does the smart move and just takes R/n to a fairy doctor to figure it all out.]

R/n, glaring down at her results: What the hell?! This is bull-crap dude!

[Turns out R/n is a chimera. But instead of inheriting all the badass powers and monsters features from her supernatural DNA donors the genes cancelled each other out; making her no different from any other human...] 

[tojisun]

"do you like it like this, love?"

is something price murmurs when he fingers you :(( his lips are pressed along your tear-stained cheek, the scruff of his beard feels so ticklish. you mewl out your whimpers, quiet hiccups passing between your trembling lips.

a particular curl makes you gasp, your legs squeezing close at the sudden rush of euphoria.

"shh," john croons, rubbing his thumb along your folds, expertly avoiding our hardened clit. "open y'r legs again f'me, love. c'mon."

he coaxes you with his touch, his voice, his soft kisses. when you shake your head in reply, too overwhelmed with pleasure to speak, john just doubles his efforts; quiet pleas lilting from the base of his throat, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

he is just so soft. so patient.

(he will draw out the foreplay even when you're shaking in his hold, your eyes full of tears, and your body racked with oversensitivity. when you beg him to fuck you, to "please, john. please stuff me," john just nuzzles his nose on your cheek and curls his fingers in your cunt again.

it makes you sob because the realization finally descends on you—john was preparing you for a scene.)

[balljointedpup]

Rundown

Warning: dubcon/noncon themes in part one, dirty talk, scummy Price, implied age gap, babysitter! Reader, Wife is named, cheating, Price has a chronic need for a wife that makes him happy, nsft, brief breeding kink, one usage of daddy, p in v, no protection

Original prompt by ceilidho

Reblogs, likes and comments are much appreciated!

Part 1 | part 2

"Mr Price- I tried to-" You were stammering, a whole new tremor running through you. As you started with big watery eyes. "I tried to tell you..."

But you gasped as you felt another roll of his hips stutter forward. John guided your frozen body to twist around, pressing your back to the mattress as you hiccuped. Apologizing over and over as your eyes recoiled from his unwavering gaze. Pressing his cock back into your tight heat with a deep groan from his chest. His eyes glazed over as he stared down at your meak form.

Another rut made you preen. Blinking through thick tears as your lips parted. Hands reaching up and tugging on his shirt. "Please- I can't-"

"ssh." He silenced, squeezing your cheeks so your lips smooshed together. Forced to pucker as you sniffed. "Quite pet."

He was thinking with his dick. He knew. Months upon months of nothing but his hand and itchy pillows. Not even twenty men could pry him from the clench of your sobbing pussy. He wasn't lying; you felt like heaven. John leaned down as he pressed his nose to your cheek. "Feel good?" He whispered, adjusting his grip on your face.

You hesitantly nod. Because it did. If felt amazing. Felt wicked. It was. This whole thing was wrong yet nothing has felt more right.

With that, Price let out a huff as he nodded your head for you. "Yeah?"

"ah huh.." was all you could breath out as you laid there. Hands grasping at his arms, nails scratching along the hair that covered them.

And your eyes rolled back as his hips picked up pace once again. His fingers threaded between yours as the press of his wedding band burned against you. Missing the way way his fingers pinched at your ring finger.

-- -- --

Neither of you talked about it. It was like it never happened at all. As it should have been. It should have never happened. You knew that and you were sure John knew that. It felt wrong to look at Colleen knowing that you left their house with John's cum drenching your underwear and threatening to roll down your legs. The peddle back home was agonizing as you felt the the squelch of your combined juices with each shift against the bike seat.

You considered quitting. It would be the right thing to do. It should be what you're doing instead of entering their house with a smile on your face and baby James gifted back into your arms. Accepting paychecks from manicured fingers as if the scent of her husband's sweaty cock hasn't stained your palm. How he's come home early, spotting you and asking in a hushed voice if the 'other misses' was home.

You should be sick with yourself. Disturbed how easily you fell down this rabbit hole. So willingly. Yet some part of you felt justified. They were miserable together and clearly only stayed for the baby. But even then, with how often Colleen left the house and called you up to do her duty as a mother you were beginning to doubt James was going to be their glue for much longer.

Did she know? Was she able to smell her perfume on your neck. The scent of her husband's cock on your breath. Did she see the missed specs of cum still in your hair? Did she care?

So many questions that gnawed at you more than any guilt did.

-- -- --

John's stubbornness was a double-edged sword. Once fixated on finally repairing his failing marriage now became an unbreakable wall to rip it to shreds. Not telling you about obvious signs of what remained of your debauchery, cooing to James late at night how his new mommy was going to be just so sweet for them both. Grinning at his son's small hands grabbing at you whenever you came over. The kid knew what he wanted just like his father.

It was a pride thing. He knew deep down. He's stopped enjoying the touch of his wife years ago. But he was a man of his word; he was committed to her happiness. Through sickness and in health. It's why he let her speak so coldly to him when her mood soured like a ripe lime. Why he kept his ring on her finger despite her tantrums and wails. He wouldn't stand for the mockery his men would snide at him being unable to keep his bird in check. Unable to keep her tucked under his arm.

But now, with you in the picture, that stubbornness could be shifted to a new track. He knew he was in trouble the minute he saw you. You weren't the most overly qualified, and your face had a glow that could have melted even hardened men such as him. He wouldn't doubt even Simon would relent to that shine in your pretty eyes.

James loved you. He seemed to crave your nurturing more than his own birth mother. And who was he to deny his son? His world.

So when Colleen was having another one of her fits; the only way you could tell James was even hers. So similar to the two, John had to cover his mouth as a smirk threatened to quirk on his lips. She slammed down the divorce papers and dared him with that glare of hers to finally give her up.

He just uncrossed his arms, nodding as he leaned forward, elbows perched on the table as he held out his hand. "Got a pen?"

"what-?!" She barked. Colleens eyes wide with shock.

"pen, love, do you have one?"

His wife knew when he wasn't joking. She's been with him long enough to see the signs. He wasn't calling her bluff this time. Her lips trembled for a moment before forcing themselves into a firm line as she slapped a pen down into his hand. Watching as how easily he wrote his signature and checked through each page.

As soon it was done she snatched the papers from him, thrusting her ring down up on the table with a noisy clatter. "I hope you enjoy that little skank of yours." Was all she could hiss before turning on her heel and storming out. Grabbing her purse and jacket and fumbling for her phone.

-- -- --

You got a call to return for another day on the job sooner than you expected. When you knocked on the door you were greeted with John's build looming over you. Expectant of your arrival. Grinning beneath his bushy mustache as he guided you into the home.

"where's Jammy?" You coo out, awaiting to be greeted by the baby but John just shook his head.

"just us, hon, she's taken him out today."

"then why-"

But he didn't let you question, cupping your jaw as he tilted your head up. And you knew instantly what you were here for. Swallowing as he led you to the couch, taking you right there. Pinning your soft body beneath his as your ankles dangled at his ears. His cock plunged ruthlessly into your needy core, heavy balls smacking against your ass as he grunted.

"gimme your hand, sweetheart." He coaxed, prying your hand from gripping his forearm as he pulled the ring from his pocket, his trousers hanging around his meaty thighs, slipping his ring around your finger and immediately letting out an almost pained coo. "Don't worry, we'll get it fitted. Looks so pretty on you."

But you were barely even able to moan from the air being punched out of your lungs with the way his cock was barging straight into your womb. Too fucked out to fully process what he was saying as your brain was replaced with cotton.

"my pretty little wife, gonna give me another one, ain't ya? Give your son a little brother, hm?"

You could only dumbly nod, probably agree to anything he said like this. Something he was going to keep a note of. Your pussy twitching at just the thought. The coil grew tighter and tighter. Your walls choking his cock making him groan.

"that's it, mama. Come for daddy-"

[the-californicationist]

he helps you study

After agreeing to let him use you whenever he wants, Captain Price fucks you freely while you’re studying, making you read your chapter out loud.

Warning: Free use, prior explicit consent, domination

Two more chapters and you’d finally be done. This statistics class was killing you, and going back to school after having already been in the workforce for so long had made it even harder. There were discussion questions due tomorrow, and you needed to finish them tonight. 

You heard the door to your bedroom creak open, and John’s heavy footsteps padded on the carpet. 

Glancing over your shoulder, you gave him a half-smile,

“Hey, honey. I’m not finished yet, but I’ll be there soon. I know you wanted to watch a movie. I’m sorry I -”

You felt his hands pull your pajama shorts and underwear down to your thighs in one, rough movement.

“Hey! I don’t have time for this. What are you -”

“Read. Your. Book,” his voice was so close to your ear, and the way he bullied you with the weight of his body on your back made your breath catch in your throat. 

You heard the tell-tale jingle of his belt buckle. Then the zipper. Turning your attention back to the book was impossible. He noticed your distracted look and sank a fingertip into your pussy, playing gently at your entrance, convincing it to swell, anticipating his cock. 

“I told you to read, sweetheart. Out loud.”

You swallowed, trying to find your place on the page, 

“Chapter 12. Misuse of statistics can produce subtle but serious errors in description and interpretation…“

You felt his weight crush the mattress. Your captain was situated behind you. He spread your legs open and pulled your hips back, lifting your ass up in the air. The cool air of the room rushed over your exposed flesh. You felt his mouth begin to lick your folds, not for your pleasure but for his. 

“…subtle in the sense that even experienced professionals make such errors…oh, shit, John,” you cried out from the feel of his tongue as it laved through your folds. 

He stopped eating you, and you felt him lean forward. Then, his cockhead was prodding at your hole. He was wetting it with your own fluids, using his dick like a paintbrush before pushing forward into your tight, unprepared walls. 

“Ahh, honey, wait!” You tried to slow him down, looking back at him.

What you saw when you turned around was a warning. You had agreed to free use after he had asked you for it, and he had warned you about his rules. He would take you, whenever, wherever, and however he wanted, and you were not to complain. You had to use the safe word. 

You didn’t use it, squeezing your eyes shut in a pleasurable kind of pain, returning to your book,

“…and serious in the sense that they can lead to devastating decision errors. For instance,” you had to stop again. 

You couldn’t continue. His cock felt too damn good. You were moaning, feeling yourself being stretched out by your captain, experiencing a sudden flood of wetness as your body attempted to accommodate its favorite guest. 

“For instance, what, pretty girl?” He asked cruelly, fitting the tip of his thumb into your asshole as he pounded himself forward, slamming his weight into you, stretching both of your holes.

You were struggling to concentrate, and the words came out in strained, staccatoed bursts,

“For instance, social policy, medical practice, and the reliability of structures like bridges all rely on the proper use of statistics…”

John fucked you faster, shaking the bed, grunting and moaning without shame, gripping onto your hips fiercely and without mercy. You could feel how impossibly hard he was. His thickness overwhelmed you even with lube and plenty of foreplay. Like this, raw and sudden, it was enough to make you drunk on his lustful work. 

“Keep reading, love. This tight little cunt is gonna make me come,” he growled low and tense through his clenched jaw, using his thumb to push deeper into your sensitive ass. 

“Even when statistical techniques…” you whispered, incapable of projecting your voice without it turning into a wanton moan. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. Good girl,” he took his thumb away in order to play with your rigid clit. It sent sparks through you, making you clench down around him. He groaned louder.

You tried to read, not wanting to displease your captain, trying to be a good girl, just for him. Whatever he wanted, you were eager to give it. 

“…are correctly applied…”

“God fuckin’ damnit! That’s what I want, love. Come for me. Squeeze this cock for me. That’s it. That’s it, babe,” John leaned forward, his chest pressing down on your back, fucking you like a hound, his other hand grasping the sheets as he tried to hold his full weight off of you. 

He knew exactly how you liked your pussy to be played with. His hands were huge, and his long fingers could apply the most delicious pressure against your swollen folds, making your legs tremble and shake. 

“…the results can be difficult…” 

You couldn’t breathe. You came so hard that you saw stars, keeping yourself from moaning to give him the obedience he was craving. He screamed loud enough for the both of you, pumping harder and harder into you like a steel piston, spilling inside of you in hot, thick ropes. 

“…to interpret.”

You were both panting, ragged and well-used. He pulled himself out of you as slowly as he could, setting your legs back down, and leaving you on the bed, wet and soaking in his come. You heard his belt buckle clinking again, being fastened by its panting owner. He pulled your panties back up, making sure to scoop his escaped come back into the fabric so it would smear against your lips. Then, your shorts, positioned on your waist with care. 

Closing the door to the bedroom, John left you there, holding your textbook, shaking like a leaf.